Packing a punch
As I start my new job in a couple of weeks, I thought it wise to take a quick trip to England to visit my parents while I still had free time. I mentioned as much to Tim, Travel Agent to the Stars (or at least the wealthy).
"You're not going through Heathrow, are you?" he asked. I nodded. "Then pack light. Don't check anything in. They've become notorious for losing luggage."
He told me about a client who'd had his suitcase go astray on two separate occasions (once with his New Year's Eve party tux inside). And when Tim had called Heathrow for help, the jovial officer at the other end of the line had said, "Oh, you wouldn't believe whose luggage we've lost. Madonna, Regis Philbin ..."
The next night, I mentioned my travel plans to another friend. "Be careful with your luggage," she warned. "Friend of mine went to visit family in England at the beginning of June. Still hasn't seen her suitcase."
So I have options. I can pack my usual overstuffed rolling case with everything I might possibly need (just in case there's a sudden gala event on Teesside) and hope it doesn't disappear; I can follow my friend Julie's suggestion: carry no more than a toothbrush and pick up everything I need from the cheap high-street clothing stores (great fashions at slave-labor prices!); or I can pack the bare minimum and spend the week in cargo pants and t-shirts.
Ah, heck--the latter is my summer uniform anyway.
As long as there's room for my fabulous new dress, a "happy new job" gift to myself:
What's that? You don't understand why it's so fabulous? Take a closer look, my friend:
"You're not going through Heathrow, are you?" he asked. I nodded. "Then pack light. Don't check anything in. They've become notorious for losing luggage."
He told me about a client who'd had his suitcase go astray on two separate occasions (once with his New Year's Eve party tux inside). And when Tim had called Heathrow for help, the jovial officer at the other end of the line had said, "Oh, you wouldn't believe whose luggage we've lost. Madonna, Regis Philbin ..."
The next night, I mentioned my travel plans to another friend. "Be careful with your luggage," she warned. "Friend of mine went to visit family in England at the beginning of June. Still hasn't seen her suitcase."
So I have options. I can pack my usual overstuffed rolling case with everything I might possibly need (just in case there's a sudden gala event on Teesside) and hope it doesn't disappear; I can follow my friend Julie's suggestion: carry no more than a toothbrush and pick up everything I need from the cheap high-street clothing stores (great fashions at slave-labor prices!); or I can pack the bare minimum and spend the week in cargo pants and t-shirts.
Ah, heck--the latter is my summer uniform anyway.
As long as there's room for my fabulous new dress, a "happy new job" gift to myself:
What's that? You don't understand why it's so fabulous? Take a closer look, my friend:
Labels: Heathrow, rail travel, Teesside
posted by LimeyG at
9:46 AM
3 Comments:
that is SOOOO COOOOL about the new job! congratulations!!!!!
I just hear Mel Gibson yelling FREEDOM!!!
Laura
OHMYGOD! I must have that dress! Wherever did you find it, dahlink? email me, wouldja? (and if i do manage to find it and get it i PROMISE i'll tell everyone i totally copped your mad dress style, promise)
Dontcha just love it?? I got it from Magpie in Davis Sq (where Poor Little Rich Girl used to be). 'Twas the only one, sadly, but you should check tymbalart.com (I couldn't get the site to load earlier today, though!).
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